


Where You Belong, Where We Belong

by BrokenHazelEyes



Series: OT4- Greg/Ed/Sam/Spike [42]
Category: Flashpoint (TV)
Genre: Other, People try and poach Spike, Possessive Behavior, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4942555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenHazelEyes/pseuds/BrokenHazelEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People try and fail to take Spike away from Team One.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Belong, Where We Belong

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know anymore. Oh my gosh.... I apologize.... *slinks off into corner*
> 
> A/N: I do not own Flashpoint, nor the characters. I don't make a profit. Please don't repost anywhere. Thanks.

 Sam glared at yet another prim-and-proper businesswoman as she sat in his usual chair in the briefing room. A binder, filled with papers and documents and whatever else, sat before her as she typed swiftly on her blackberry.

Bright red lipstick made her look too-pale, ghost-like, and Sam could see the over exaggerated lines of her mascara all the way from the doorway. A different ploy this time, then? The companies chasing after Spike like rabid dogs were switching it up—they’d kept sending bubbly young men, hoping to foster friendship, but they’d only received the bomb tech’s polite dismissal. And Sam’s glares.

And Ed’s glares.

And Greg’s glares.

Pretty much everyone in Team One had made it clear they wanted them gone.

But they just kept coming!

Taking his seat with jerky movements, the blonde sniper rolled his shoulders and waited for the rest of the team.

“It’s a waste of your time, you know,” Sam yawned, smirking at the surprised woman, “Spike’s not interested in any of your deals. He turns everyone down. Immediately.”

“I’m sure.” The woman bit sharply, “I’d like to have the chance to speak with him, nonetheless.”

“You’re just taking up his time. Ours, too.” Sam shrugged. “Spike would never work in a cubicle. He’d tear the place apart.”

“What are you—his keeper?”

“He’s _my_ teammate.” Sam stressed, and the woman frowned. “You and all these corporations and government programs need to get that through your head. He’s a part of this team, and he’s not leaving.”

The woman studied him, eyes tracking every little detail from the creases of his eyes to the tautness of his lips, and leaned back into her seat.

“Is that how he feels? How do you really know he doesn’t want to leave but you’re forcing him to stay? What if he finally says yes, what if he agrees to the deal I’m about to offer him?” She smirked, running a sharp nail over the curve of her phone.

Sam curled his fingers into his palms, clenching the muscles of his forearms, and kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t go off on this lady, let her know all her flaws and how Spike was _family_. Willingly family.

“Can I help you, Miss….?” Greg saved Sam, walking in a moment later with Ed on his heels.

“Miss Tanner, Sir. I’m here to see one of your men, a Mr. Scarlatti?”

Ed’s eyes shifted to Sam’s, questioning, and Sam gave a slight nod of his chin.

_Another recruiter?_

_Yeah._

“Spike!” Greg shouted, shoulders edging up a bit in tension.

The bomb tech hurried over from where he was sprawled over Winnie’s desk, teeth slightly gnawing at the plastic lip of his coffee cup. He introduced himself, as politely as ever, to the under-dressed recruiter and promised Greg he’d be right back as the two walked off.

The lady’s lips started up like a speedboat engine, never stopping, as Spike led her into a hallway and away from the SRU’s main control room.

“You would think they’d give up,” Greg groaned, sinking into his chair as Ed rested his hip against the table and folded his arms across his chest.

“Just got to put up with it,” Ed muttered, flipping through the new case file for a protection detail on some politician. Sam frowned even deeper.

“At least they stopped hitting on him,” Greg pacified, and Sam and Ed’s faces turned dark.

_Those_ had been bad days.

 

* * *

 

It had been a mere two weeks ago, and Spike had turned down a job offer only an hour ago—a strapping young man had sauntered up to his door, purred out the information, and then tried to charm his way in when his offer was turned down.

Spike had nearly felt his lovers glowering with irritation from the living room of his apartment, and quickly shut the door before the green-eyed man before him could growl out any more inappropriate lines.

It had sparked his partners, that was for sure; Spike never knew he could get hickies in some many places.

Besides, it had been the tenth time, that month alone, someone from some agency had tried to flirt their way into signing Spike onto a job or just flirt with the brunette in general.

 

* * *

 

“…You know, it’s been a while,” Ed pushed off of the table, “I’m going to go tell Spike it’s time to stop chit-chatting and get to work.”

Greg and Sam solemnly nodded their support.


End file.
